


No Forgiveness

by kikibug13



Series: Unforgiven [1]
Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: Dark fic, M/M, no-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/pseuds/kikibug13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Any fandom, any m/m pairing, one person is an abuse/rape survivor and has a panic attack/flashback when trying to bottom with his partner.<br/>Summary: It is among the things Chase accomplishes - bringing out the darkest side of Caleb, tearing the Sons of Ipswich apart...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this](http://kittydesade.livejournal.com/364580.html), [this](http://kittydesade.livejournal.com/369462.html), and the second first kiss in [this](http://kittydesade.livejournal.com/410795.html).

Caleb looked up into the familiar face above him and slightly smiled. Reached to run his fingertips along the edges of the sweat-darkened blond hair hanging down, framing Pogue's features. Brushed his thumb along his cheek. Nodded slightly. Gasped a little, as the other boy started pushing into him. Ever so slowly. Smooth, and slick; neither of them ever went sparse on _that_. And gentle, almost breakingly gentle.

Another breath out. It was going to work, of course it was going to work okay, it was him and Pogue. They couldn't not work.

It had usually been a lot less questionable, over the last few weeks. Well, after the first time when neither of them had known what would happen, but it had been okay, and better every time after. Pogue was turned on by bottomming something fierce, so that's what they usually did. In various ways. There had been that one time when he'd been drunk enough and they had been high on each other enough, eager, lustful, for Caleb to ask Pogue to _do_ him, in turn; yet not drunk enough to be dizzy. It had been over the pool table at Pogue's. It had started tense and awkward, but he'd been too turned on to keep it up and had relaxed.

He was turned on like that, now, too, and when they'd tumbled into bed, he'd rolled with Pogue on top of him. Quiet words and quiet reassurances and a lot of touching and lubing, god, Pogue sometimes joked that they used twice more than was necessary, but Caleb always insisted, and anyway now the blond was entering him, filling and firm. Slow, and careful, too, and he could almost see the pupils of the hazel eyes dilate, spread as pleasure mounted. It mounted for him, too, really. For all the scar tissue that was still tender, he had to admit it felt good. And he was learning to move with Pogue's body, less so in this position for lack of practice, but still. Speed up, twist just like this to respond to the rising breaths, the flush in the fair, sun-kissed cheeks. Run his hands like that to turn the panting into slow moans, and then grunts hovering on the edge of something else; and Pogue, oh, Pogue knew how to make him want more, lips and hands working as well as hips.

Building up. Moving up.

Until the body was pressed against his _like that_, and thrusts came sharp and fast and helpless _like that_, and they'd moved in the bed so that his head thumped against the headboard with some of the motions. Once. Twice.

_Like being hit against the trunk of--_

And the sheets bundled up under his back, digging into his skin.

_\--like the bark of--_

Like--

_No. Stop. No!_

And the hands clutching half at him, half beside him--

_Chase!_

It hurt and he couldn't stop it and god, Pogue was hurt, and what had he done to Sarah? and his hands trying to push him away, sliding harmlessly over the sweat-slicked skin, no purchase, nothing, he could do nothing with his body, so he reached in, reached in deep and hard and lashed out, hurling him away--

 

Pogue had barely any warning. Caleb's hands moved faster on him, gripping a little, but that was not an unfamiliar gesture, when arousal was getting the upper hand on control - he'd think later, but not then, no, because next he came out of the kiss to see a bright fire obliterating the soft brown from Caleb's eyes and caught a glimpse of deep, bottomless black before he was flying up, slamming hard against the ceiling. The shock of being physically lifted away, out of his lover, barely registered, then pain shot through him, back first and spreading out, rattling his teeth, rattling all of him.

Then his naked back burned as Caleb moved a hand and Pogue was sliding along the plaster, crashing into a wall, and then down it till impact with the floor threw air out of his lungs.

The older boy tangled with the sheets, coming out of the bed; it let Pogue begin to comprehend what was happening, that maybe he was remembering what neither of them wanted to remember, begin to call out Caleb's name, try to talk to him and reassure him it was alright, it wasn't--

He only had to see the beautiful face deformed by that rage, pain and fear twisting his body and curling his fingers, to know that he wasn't reaching through. But when he tried to straighten to move closer, to try to force him to look into his eyes and know, to touch, touch always helped anchor Caleb, reminded him how well they fit, he always said... Another strike. Not a literal hit, of course; his best friend, his boyfriend, was still halfway across the room. Magic. Power. His senses were tingling with what the older boy had drawn to him, and he was still powering up further.

With how things were - Caleb and his double share of the Power and of the temptation of Using - that alone was bad, very bad. Not hearing, not understanding what exactly was going on, probably trapped in a memory of... what Chase had done after he'd crashed the Mustang? A chill ran through the blond, and he hastily powered up,too, to try and protect himself long enough to reach through.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't near enough. Just as on that road, that night, with Chase. He didn't have enough. Only it felt worse now, because it _wasn't_ Chase.

When Caleb attacked again, it swept through Pogue's defenses almost as though they weren't there; new pain seared through his body. He tried harder, the next time, resisting the burst of Power directed at him with as much of his own as he had; he knew the way Caleb struck, they'd been practicing together since they were children--

Except it was different, now. The amount of energy burning its way towards him was greater; there were things that he didn't know were even possible to do that were coming his way, fast, hysterical, and he didn't last long against the onslaught. And then what Caleb sent over burst inside him, again, and again, and he ended up curled up to try and protect his stomach and front even if the energy passed through flesh and bone when Caleb willed it so; arms crossed over his head, calling his friend's name until he had no strength or breath left, pain and exhaustion creeping in on his body; then the most of the sounds he made were whimpers. He was still trying.

It hadn't taken that long.

But sweet Jesus it hurt. He'd hoped he'd never feel this again, magic ravaging through him, bruising, damaging; it wasn't _meant_ to work that way, to do this, and he couldn't do anything to stop it, to shake the man, boy, the person he loved out of where his mind had trapped him and make him stop, please stop, please, no more--

 

Tyler and Reid were through the door and into the room with them within minutes, startled, frightened away from the nonsense they'd been busy with downstairs by the massive amounts of power that had been called up, this close. It couldn't be a sign for anything good; they didn't even talk about it, just rushed up. The youngest wasn't sure which of them gasped and which gave off a quiet moan at the sight of Caleb tying to pound somebody--

\-- Pogue.

Trying to pound Pogue into pulp.

Even worse, trying to beat Pogue into pulp using the Power he had. The power they all had.

The blond was still calling out his name, somehow; although it wasn't much more than actually mumbling it in his direction, the air charged enough that the sound carried.

"God! Caleb, stop that! You're going to fucking _kill_ him!"

"It's Chase! I will, I must, stay back, Tyler!"

"What?"

"He crashed the car, now he's after Pogue, check on him, won't you? I can hear him crying out my name, can't you hear him? Crying; Chase's hurt him badly, hasn't he? What are you doing? Let the damn _go_ of me!"

It took the effort of both Reid and Tyler to get any sort of hold over him; they had to link their powers to shield Pogue, at least temporarily; as soon as the hits stopped coming, the boy on the ground gave off a keening noise, and curled up, hurt, helpless. "It's _you_ who's hurting Pogue, Caleb. Caleb, listen to me, Chase isn't here."

"What are you _talking_ about? He's right--"

The all-black eyes focused on the boy who punched him. "Chase. Isn't. Here." All black boring into all-black.

Then Caleb's head turned just a little and both Reid and Tyler tensed. But he didn't strike again, didn't shout. Just breathed, "oh_GOD_."

The pressure remained against their arms for another long moment, and then another, before Caleb slumped against them, and for a bit all that they could hear was breathing. Three loud thumpings of heartbeats, and--

Reid seemed to have realized it first; he was moving away, leaving the oldest boy's almost dead weight against Tyler to drop to his knees by the prone, well, fetal, figure. His hands were shaking as he reached to check; Caleb was shaking, too. The lapse of time between that and Reid speaking again was _agonizing._

"He's breathing." His voice was quivering, and he flopped on the floor, taking Pogue's head in his lap, carefully, smoothing the long hair away from his face, long fingers slow and achingly gentle. "If you'd managed to kill him, I swear to God--"

But by the time he looked up to glare, Caleb was... just gone; Tyler stumbled with the sudden absence of the the weight against him.

The two pairs of blue eyes met, then turned towards the door at the same time. Then Tyler knelt beside Pogue, too. He didn't know where Caleb'd gone to, he wasn't even sure he knew how. But he did know that the one of them who was down needed help, and stat.

 

After two days, the rhythmic hiss of the respirator and the sharp beep of the pulse monitor were driving Reid crazy. Except they meant that Pogue was still alive and Reid had no energy left to do anything about it, not even the nervous motion of a leg or tapping fingers against his jeans; he just sat in the chair, arms crossed tight in front of his chest, and stared almost unblinking, red-rimmed eyes at his friend in the bed.

At least Pogue hadn't been out cold for two days. He'd drifted up, now and again, very briefly, hazel eyes opening, mostly unfocused, generally upset...

The first time had been as they were loading him up into the ambulance. He'd muttered about it not being Caleb's fault, don't tell them about him. Relieved that he was awake, both Tyler and Reid had agreed to that under the intense, startlingly aware and urgent look; they'd both regretted promising it when squirming under Richard Parry's glare, weighted by worry for his son.

Pogue's parents _had_ a reason to be angry. Hell, Reid was angry, so pissed that the only thing keeping the flare of magic away from taking him over was that it wouldn't do that much good - nobody had a clue where Caleb was. Tyler had spent most of this time trying to track him down, they'd even tried to _find_ him magically, but they had nada.

Now it was Reid's self-imposed shift to sit with Pogue, Richard and Marian had needed to leave, briefly - he'd call them if there was any change. Tyler had returned from the most recent attempt to locate the fourth of them a couple of hours ago and had passed out, as tired as everyone, on the chair by the wall.

Reid couldn't sleep. He couldn't go out of the room, not unless there was somebody awake there. Just sat, and watched.

When the hazel eyes fluttered open, he was already there, leaning closer, within Pogue's easy field of vision; the older boy's grip on his elbow was again familiar, reinforcing the memory from years ago, from after the crash, the first one. It put an extra edge in the blue eyes; but he made himself swallow that - it wasn't for Pogue.

His breathing seemed a little less dependent on the machine, this time, like he was in control of it; the way his eyes moved... maybe it wasn't going to be one of the brief float-ups to consciousness. Finally.

After a bit, he seemed to manage to make his mouth work, around the tube. Wincing with the cut lip. "Hey."

"Hey. You with us to stay this time?"

"Hope so... how long was I out?"

"Coupla days, give or take." Pogue's eyes closed and Reid's breath caught, but then they squeezed, and he didn't pass back out. "Don't worry about it, okay? Just stay back here."

"Yeah..."

Lips tight, thinking of the scene they'd burst in on. "What happened?"

The golden brows knit, and Pogue's eyes clouded. "It's... he... he attacked me, you saw that, right?" At the nod, he went on, quickly. Reid couldn't make out what was in his tone, but it didn't seem to be anger. How could he not be angry? "It's not... it's not what it looked like. I know why, it was my fault, okay?"

"How..."

"It was my fault. I should've known. Where is he, if he's staying away because--"

Reid glared; how _could_ it have been his fault? Pogue would do somersaults before hurting one of them; especially Caleb. "Don't know. He disappeared, hasn't been back for... well, two days. Left without a word, Tyler's not been able to find him..."

For the first time since he woke up, Pogue looked like he might cry or something. "Oh, Caleb..."

"What? Pogue, talk to me?" Tyler had stirred, then sprung awake at the sound of the older boy's voice; he acknowledged his presence of the other side of the bed, then sank back into the pillow.

"Chase. He went after Chase."

"Why? He wasn't even _there_!"

"Not this time. It was ... about what happened when he crashed both of us. It's..." Weak headshake, and a quavery sigh, and Reid could feel the hold of his fingers loosen, the labored whisper directed to nobody in the room and almost drowned by the life support system. "Please don't find him, Caleb. Please."

 

It was bad, and it hurt a lot. Pogue was given a lot of the good drugs for a bit; then less. Then he got well enough to be discharged from the hospital, eventually. It still hurt. He supposed that discharging him meant he was doing well and he was going to feel better, but god damn it.

Caleb was still missing. Almost certainly screening himself from attempts to be located by using their Powers; or else if not them, at least their fathers would have found him. Not that Pogue was up to participating in the search just yet... and even if he was, they were still too few, a crippled set. Both of the generations, crippled. There was something in the way Richard was looking at him, the rare times he talked about Caleb, that made him afraid. Scared for his friend, his lover; scared for himself. Even scared for his father, all of a sudden, something nagging at the edge of his awareness, a realization that he didn't seem to be ready to face. He wasn't ready to face much, these days. Least of all the many things that each day of delay meant or might mean, about Caleb. His thoughts strayed time and again towards the old colony house and the attic and the hiss of a machine and that permeating smell of age and sickness, and he tried to cringe and stay away from that, over and over.

Spending time among Caleb's things seemed to help. Not to mention that he was most likely to come back home, and Pogue wanted to waste no time talking to him.

_If he survives._

The reality of that other possiblity cut deep. For all hat he had taken _another_ dangerous beating by powers, putting him out of commission for this long, this hurt more.

Not that his body wasn't in pain. He spent most of the days untypically immobile, still, huddled under blankets on beds or couches, too many meds for a man his age and usual health state at a hand's reach. Wasn't sure if Evelyn was finding him a problem, there and sometimes in need to be taken care of, or a comfort, that she wasn't alone or something like that. They didn't really talk much.

Hell, he wasn't talking much, period. He could see it was seriously freaking Reid out; he'd have to do something about that. In a day or two. Not tonight. Nothing tonight. Just waiting. Bundled up in Caleb's bed, sleepless, restless. Not that he expected anything tonight, but he waited. It was all he could do.

Pogue was staring at the turning doorknob even before the soft click nearly echoed around him; he didn't even have time to hold his breath - but the room was quiet as Caleb stepped in, anyway. Took a couple of steps before he flipped the lights on and noticed him and started.

The blond flinched. It was bad, worse than he expected. (_But he is moving on his own, isn't he? ... for now._)

His best friend, his lover, his Caleb. The oldest of them, the strongest, the deepest and most reliable. The most responsible. Standing there, a few steps into his own room, looking just tired and thin and worn. Like he hadn't thought to stop to eat in the days between then and now. And been running himself too hard.

Of course he had been.

And older. It had sucked up years and years of him. The dark face was lined, the soft brown eyes clouded. His motions slower, achier.

He stood there, their eyes... not locked, there wasn't enough energy between the two of them for that, but kind of staring or gazing at each other, for a long time. Caleb didn't say. Pogue didn't ask.

The older boy shook himself out of it with a visible effort. Kind of straightened up, which made Pogue aware of how slumped the tall, broad shoulders were; it twisted his heart worse. "I'm sorry. I'll let you rest, we probably shouldn't even be in the same room." If there was berating in the tired voice, it was too quiet to be discernible. The blond's throat tightened anyway.

Caleb turned to go; took back half the distance he'd stepped into the room before Pogue reacted, eyes brightening amber, then red, and the door slapped closed in front of the other boy's nose, making him almost jump. The words followed quickly. "Don't go. Please."

 

He didn't reach towards the doorknob. It had taken all of his willpower to try to walk away once; he had no strength left to fight those words.

He had no strength left for anything.

Not that he knew why Pogue was asking him that; it was just what he wanted, too far down to admit he wanted it. He was... confused, and tired, and empty as he turned towards the room, towards the bed, again.

"Come here." For the first time, he registered how exhausted _Pogue_ sounded, registered the crapload of medications on the bedside. The fact that the blond almost hadn't moved, the same guy who'd have otherwise bounded to door to talk with him, facing him close up and standing--

_God. I did that. It's my fault. My fault, all if it is..._

He obeyed. Slowly crossing the rest of the distance. Pogue reached up, held onto his arm and tugged him down to sit, and then put both hands on his shoulders.

One was trembling slightly with the effort. Enough residual power was flickering around them for Caleb to realize that he'd sprained it for him.

Fingers deep into his palms, he looked down, eyes flaring and darkening. He could at least fix it, couldn't he? But before he started, Pogue's fingers dug into his shoulder. "Don't. Caleb... don't. I'll be okay. I'll..." The rest was choked off, but his hand rose, and he could feel fingers, so very gentle, caressing his creased face. Moments, heartbeats floated by; he released his hold on the power. "Can you get it back in control?"

It was, after all, addictive.

"I don't know." It was truth; he owed him this much. And neither of them could do anything about it.

Silence stretched, spinning and roiling, but it seemed to do so around them - rather than between them. Eventually, his eyes slowly rose to meet Pogue's. This time, something hitched. Moments only, and he crumpled against the blond as if he had the right to. But it was gone, the awareness of what he could or couldn't do. Pogue was home, and he needed home, now.

_And you always take what you need, don't you._

Pogue was holding him anyway, hugging him tight, as much so as he probably could. Both of them were crying, stifled, ashamed, well, Caleb was ashamed. And even more so when the words came that he knew and hoped and was afraid would come. "Still love you."

When he managed to make his mouth work again, all he could spew was, "you're a fool to, after _that_."

"Maybe." There was no flinch that he could feel, no hesitation. That just broke Caleb further. "But I still love you. Even if we never go there again. Even if you decide to go away. Even if it's out of control and..." Not even he could say it; the older boy heard it anyway. "I still love you, Caleb Danvers. Always will."

He had no words to give back to that. He had nothing, he was nothing; and yet Pogue meant every. single. word. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what he could do, didn't know what would come; and those words drowned anything that resembled trying to think. Except he didn't sink; the certainty that he hadn't broken... something. One thing in his life, seemed to keep his head above the water. Or maybe just Pogue did.

So Caleb did the only thing he could. He clung.


End file.
